


Courting the Tiger

by ssrhpurgatory



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Banter, F/M, Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Soulmarks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28374546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssrhpurgatory/pseuds/ssrhpurgatory
Summary: Rosemary Epps has known since she was thirteen that the first thing she will hear her soulmate say is something that could only be an insult, and has spent her entire life since then making sure it's an inaccurate one.Dmitri Vologin had long since given up on finding his soulmate... until he finally does, and discovers that he got off on the wrong foot with her long before they met.
Relationships: Alexander Hilbert/Original Female Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Courting the Tiger

Rosemary Epps was almost thirteen years old when the first words she would hear her soulmate say appeared on her arm.

It was a relief, almost, waking up one morning with a dark scrawl of letters on her wrist. She was one of the few people her age who didn’t have theirs yet. She even knew some people with two, but she hadn’t even had the one, and she had started to think it was a bit unfair. Bad enough that her parents didn’t love her. Was she going to spend her life bereft of even this?

Thankfully, no, but even so, she spent the entirety of the next day squinting and frowning at the scrawled letters. Whoever her soulmate was, they had abysmal handwriting; while she could make out a letter or two, nothing about the sentence on her arm made a coherent whole.

It was only two years later, at a birthday party she hadn’t really wanted to go to, that Rosemary found out what they said.

“It is Russian cursive,” a girl named Marya said. “My grandfather writes all of his letters in it.”

“Can you read it?”

Marya snorted and rolled her eyes. “Of course I can read it, silly girl. Hold still.”

Rosemary held very still while Marya held Rosemary’s wrist and mouthed out the words written there carefully. “It says… Ona pokhozha na kotenka. ‘She looks like a kitten.’”

Rosemary made a face. Grown men had been trying to make some sort of pet of her for longer than she had even had that mark on her wrist, and she was sick of it. “I don’t think I’ll like my soulmate very much, if that’s the first thing they say to me.”

Marya shrugged and dropped Rosemary’s wrist. “Whatever you say.”

“Still… I think I probably ought to learn Russian, all the same.” And make sure that by the time I meet my soulmate, no one will dare call me a kitten, she added, just to herself.

Marya smiled. “I can help.”

Dmitri Vologin had given up on finding his soul mate, but he still attended conferences that American and English scientists would be at all the same, figuring they would be the most likely to provide the sentence written on his wrist. Of course, he had not had much luck, especially with the current state of international affairs, but tensions had been easing as of late, and this conference was in Switzerland—neutral ground. And he had definitely been looking forward to meeting some of the scientists who were present.

“Ah, there is Dr. Epps,” murmured Viktor from his station at Dmitri’s side. “Remind me to introduce you to her.”

Dmitri glanced over at the group Viktor was looking at. “Which one?” Dmitri had read (and enjoyed) a number of the woman’s papers, and had even used one or two as springboards for research of his own.

“The one who is head shorter than everyone else.”

Dmitri let out a surprised burst of laughter, and Dr. Epps glanced their way curiously. She was a short, fat Black woman, made of cuddly-looking curves that were evident even under the fiercely shoulder-padded suit jacket she was wearing. “ _That_ is Dr. Epps? I was expecting something much fiercer. She looks like a kitten.”

Only too late did Dmitri notice Viktor’s wide-eyed expression, his subtle head-shake, clear signs that speaking about this woman in Russian would not prevent her from understanding what was said. Dr. Epps took two steps over from the group she had been talking to and smiled toothily up at Dmitri before speaking the words inscribed on his wrist. “Don’t you know you should never call a tiger a pussycat?”

Oh dear. Here was his soulmate, then.

And he had most _definitely_ gotten off on the wrong foot with her.

At his side, Viktor sighed. He was just as aware of the words on Dmitri’s wrist as Dmitri himself was. “Well. I suppose we will be spending rest of weekend in embassies, getting paperwork in order.”

Dr. Epps raised an eyebrow. “Not so hasty, Dr. Stukov. I’m not entirely certain I’ll want to continue the relationship beyond this weekend, let alone long enough that visa concerns will come into play.”

Entirely on the wrong foot. Dmitri winced. “Dmitri Vologin,” he interjected, holding out his hand for her to shake.

“Oh. _You.”_ There was a wealth of meaning in that one small syllable. Had she read his papers? Had she realized that he had used some of her work as the basis for research of his own? Had she disapproved?

Even if she had, she was not so annoyed with him as to avoid shaking his hand. Her grip was firm, her fingers warm and smooth against his.

“We should get visas for the two of you regardless,” Viktor suggested. “Would be good for cultural exchange reasons.”

“Ugh. Politics. The last thing I want to deal with,” Dr. Epps responded, wrenching her hand out of Dmitri’s. He had been clinging to her unconsciously, he realized. “Especially when it comes to relationships,” she added, looking him over, her expression more than a little judgmental.

Dmitri bristled. It was true, the first words of his that she had heard were not overly flattering, but he had been surprised by her appearance, that was all. And who could blame him?

Well, Dr. Epps, that was who.

“We should talk,” he said stiffly.

“Hm.” That up and down perusal again. She clearly was not planning to judge him fairly. “All right.” She glanced around the conference room they were in and made a face. “Not here, though. Dinner?”

“I know where you two can get good meal,” Viktor suggested. “But tomorrow, I am taking the two of you to Russian and American embassies to start visa process.” Dmitri was now annoyed enough with the woman in front of them that he opened his mouth to protest, and some small part of him was amused to note that Dr. Epps had done the same, but Viktor shut them both down with a stern “And no arguments, you two.”

Half an hour later, after a mostly-silent walk to the restaurant Viktor had suggested, they were sitting in a cozy—and decidedly romantic, Dmitri realized with some chagrin—restaurant, examining menus. Dmitri wondered for a moment if he ought to offer to translate, but stopped himself just in time; after all, most people in their field were familiar with one or the other of French or German, and the menu had both. And he suspected he had inadvertently insulted this woman’s intelligence too many times already this weekend.

No, not insulted, but ignored in face of what she looked like. He thought that perhaps she dealt with such insults on a regular basis, given her initial reaction to him.

He was not sure how to tell her that she was not his type at all, that, if he went for women, he tended to prefer the ones who were, well, masculine, and that was if he considered a woman at all. He wanted to tell her that while her appearance had startled him, given what he knew about her research, she should not fear him making unwelcome sexual advances, that this was most likely a platonic soulmate connection.

The words stuck in his throat as he stared across the table at her. She looked up, that sarcastic eyebrow of hers quirking upwards. “Ready to order?”

“Da.”

Dr. Epps summoned the waiter to the table with a nonchalant flick of her fingers. Dmitri found himself fascinated. She had an air of command around her, a stony certainty that those in her presence would bend to her will, a certainty so strong it made that expectation a reality. She ordered first, in excellent Schweizerdeustch… and, from the deference the waiter was showing her, Dmitri fully expected the waiter to set the bill in front of her at the end of the meal.

And then they were alone again, Dr. Epps regarding him across the table with her head cocked to one side.

“How old were you when you got your mark, then?”

“When I was three.”

Dr. Epps winced. “Oh, you’re a _baby.”_

 _“_ I am not!” To Dmitri’s mortification, his voice broke as he protested, something it had not done since his teenaged years.

“I’m almost forty, darling boy.”

Oh. That changed things. She had to be the better part of a decade older than him. “How old were you?”

“Twelve and a half.” Dr. Epps smiled a little. “The half was very important back then, I recall.”

“So, you too suspect we are…?”

“Platonic? God, I hope so.” She shuddered expressively. “No offense, but I tend _not_ to be attracted to men who compare me to small, fuzzy animals.” She paused for a moment, and then frowned. “Actually, wait, yes, complete offense meant there. Please be offended. Then we can set this entire ridiculous thing aside and move on with our lives.”

Dmitri snorted. Oh, he _liked_ this woman. She was so… straightforward. “I do not think Viktor will let us be. He married his soulmate.”

Dr. Epps smiled, a sad little smile. “Ivan. I introduced them because I thought Viktor’s research could help him. I didn't expect…” she sighed, and so did Dmitri. Viktor had only had six short years with Ivan, six years of fighting to keep him alive just a little bit longer.

Six years Ivan might never have had, otherwise.

“I am glad you did. Viktor has been sad, these past few years, but…” Dmitri shrugged. “He always says he would never have given those years up.”

“Remind me to tell him that Marya wants a letter,” Dr. Epps said.

“Marya?”

There that quirked eyebrow was, going off again, giving her expression a remarkably sardonic cast. “Ivan’s other soulmate.”

Dmitri blinked, startled. “Ivan had… but he married Viktor!”

“Platonic, darling boy.” Dr. Epps took a sip of her water and appeared to be considering. “Except when it wasn't, I suppose.”

The way Dr. Epps kept calling him ‘darling boy’ was beginning to grate on Dmitri’s nerves, but just at this moment he was more fascinated with the idea that his friend’s husband had had two soulmates. “I did not think I had ever met anyone with more than one soulmate.”

“It's more common than you might think,” Dr. Epps said with a smile. “I know a fellow with… oh, goodness. What was the last count? Seven. Possibly eight?”

“How is that possible?”

“Well, you're a bit out of the norm, getting yours so young. Most of the time people don't get theirs until they're out of their toddler years. But sometimes… sometimes they just appear. They can at any time in your life, really.” She took another sip of water. “Or at least that’s what Al tells me. Professional soulmate collector, that man.”

“Do you have more than one soulmate?”

By way of answering, Dr. Epps slid out of her suit jacket and pushed up the sleeves of the silky top she was wearing underneath. She placed her hands, palm up, on the table between them. There, on her left wrist, was the dark scrawl of his handwriting. Without thinking, Dmitri reached over and traced the letters with a fingertip.

His words were the only ones inscribed on her wrists.

Ah, what a disappointment it was, to finally meet his soulmate and find the connection a platonic one. And, he reminded himself, it must be as much a disappointment for her as much as for him. She, too, must have grown up surrounded by stories of epic love between soulmates. She, too, must have wondered if that was what it would be like for her, when finally she met her soulmate.

Dr Epps freed her hand from his and settled both of her hands in her lap. Dmitri realized that he had been clinging to her again. He blushed, but Dr. Epps seemed unmoved.

“Are you and Viktor…?” She trailed off suggestively.

“Soulmates? No.”

“Well, that’s for certain, if the idea of someone having two soulmarks was new to you. I was going to ask if the two of you are an item.”

“An item?”

“Fucking.”

Dmitri let out a startled laugh. “Blyad _,_ you are blunt.”

Dr. Epps smiled. “Have I scared you off yet?”

“No. I am enjoying it.” And he was, strangely enough.

“God. You must be a perverse sort.”

“Only with my friends.”

“Well?”

“None of your business.”

“So that’s a yes, then.” Dr Epps frowned, and her teeth dug in to her lower lip as she considered him. “Or… a used to be.”

Dmitri let out a startled breath. “Are you always so good at reading people?”

“Not always. But I work with a taciturn lot, so I've had a lot of practice at reading… nonverbal signals, shall we say.” She went quiet, apparently studying him again. After what felt like the longest minute of his life, Dmitri broke the silence.

“I think Viktor is right. We should get soulmate visas. It is great coincidence that we are in same field, is it not?” At her nod of acknowledgement, he continued. “Perhaps this—” he tapped his own wrist, where her words were written “—means we will do something important together. Some research that will make world better place.”

Dr. Epps looked dubious. “Most countries won't acknowledge that some soulmate bonds are platonic. You might have to play the part of my lover to get the visa. Think you can do that?”

“Can you?” It was a reasonable question; this woman had been all prickly edges around him since they'd met.

Dr. Epps smiled across the table at him, a warm, melting smile that lit her entire face up and made Dmitri’s breath catch in his throat. “Of course I can, darling boy.”

This time, those words sounded like an endearment instead of an insult. But before Dmitri could overcome his shock and think up some response, their dinner arrived… and with its arrival, that melting warmth on Dr. Epps’ face disappeared, and she was all prickles once more.

Dmitri took an unsteady breath and wondered, just for a moment, if this truly was a platonic match. Cuddly curves might not be what he preferred… but perhaps, just perhaps, if he were given time, he could come to appreciate them.


End file.
